The Things We Do
by OliveBranchStories
Summary: Arthur has spent his whole life hunting sorcerers and Merlin has spent his whole life running, so when they come face to face down a dark alleyway something's got to give.


**I've been bitten by a lot of one-shots recently; I don't know what's happening. This did not exist at all this morning…but now voila! (Though its flourish-worthy-ness may be debatable.)**

**This is also a bit new for me, normally my stuff is more of an attempted-comedic-tone, this is attempted-seriousness (the closest I ever come to real seriousness.) **

**Hopefully the non-comedic tone works, but we'll see.**

**No wonder I'm having an art block recently, all I've got in me are words! Of course I talk so much that anybody who knows me, or who has been in my presence for longer than three minutes, would argue that I always have plenty of words, but usually it's not in coherent sentences.**

**And even in the middle of writing this I had another one-shot idea! Bah! I need to throw the brakes on these one-shots and keep my focus on 'Until Forever Ends.' Though I do think that side projects can help one remain focused on a big project for longer. Sometimes. Maybe. **

**Anyway, one-shots are fun.**

**I'm not sure how warnings are supposed to work. I don't want to give spoilers but I'll warn you, this thing does have some possibly warn-worthy themes in it. So, you know…you've been warned.**

**Okay, I'm going over here now.**

**Enjoy!**

**The Things We Do.**

The boy was completely trapped.

Good.

That meant it was time for Arthur to go in.

The black van slid to a quiet halt with lights shining to the end of the alley like the far wall was being interrogated. The boy's shirt was white and scrappy, some blue design fading along its edges, and his jeans were thin and dirty; the shadow thrown against the wall was larger than life.

Arthur reached across to the empty passengers' seat, he preferred the challenge of bringing them in alone, and grabbed his tranquilizer. It was filled with multiple darts, not that he'd need more than one. Not even that sometimes, a smack over the head with the butt of a gun was going to down you whether you were magic or not.

Just in case Arthur also grabbed his iron gun. It was shaped a lot like a nail-gun, only it shot bolts of iron. The name nail gun sounded far too brutal even if it was to deal with lawbreakers and fugitives, so they called it an iron-gun instead.

Tucking it into its holster at his waist opposite a regular issue handgun Arthur hoisted the tranquilizer, they in the squad imaginatively nicknamed them tranq-guns, and swung out of the car, elbowing the door shut behind him. He was wearing his black squad uniform, which contrasted interestingly to his shock of white-blond hair and as he moved into the car's headlights he seemed to melt out of the darkness.

Fifty or so meters away the boy, who had been pressing his hands against the wall as if he hoped to crawl _through _it, whirled around to face him.

Arthur's traps were perfect, of course. Catching sorcerers was like catching wild horses. To catch a herd of wild horses you find a good wide valley, a natural funnel, and build fences along both edges. The fences are kilometres apart and kilometres long, so the horses don't even know they are there until it's too late. The fences come together and the horses, driven from behind by people and barking dogs, are forced into a corral which is easily barred behind them.

And that's that, they're caught. No way out.

This trap had been city blocks wide, iron laid into the ground, bolted to the walls, stacked in temporary road blocks, all guiding the boy to here.

Magic users didn't just hate the touch of iron, they couldn't _stand _it. It drove their magic into themselves, out of themselves, somewhere unreachable. It hurt, it made them helpless, it made them human.

Loose cement and grit scrunched beneath Arthur's metal capped boots as he ambled down the alleyway. This alleyway was _saturated _with iron.

He could hear the boy gasping from here, the boy sounded unfit. Arthur felt a ripple of disdain; keeping fit was like a religion to him; he lived and breathed fitness.

The boy looked up and even from this distance Arthur could see the fear in his eyes.

They were always scared.

Scared of him, scared of his father, scared of the Institute.

One hand pointing his tranq-gun steadily at the sorcerer, just in case he had any surprises, Arthur wriggled the sheet of paper out of his top vest pocket and flattened it against his chest with one hand. He then glanced down at it, double checking the boy's face in the flesh to the picture handed to him by his father.

Yep, it was him alright, Merlin Emrys.

Magic user.

"Merlin Emrys?" Arthur called, pretending that it was inquiry. They were more likely to hand themselves over if it sounded like they had some control over their submission to the Institute. He did prefer it when they handed themselves over, it was easier than having to tranquilize them and drag them back to his van, though he'd still do it if he had to.

He almost always had to.

The boy's, Merlin's, eyes snapped up to meet Arthur's again from where they'd been searching, desperately, for escape.

They were always desperate.

"I'll take that as a yes," Arthur said after a moment of silence, scrunching up the paper and dropping it onto the dirty alleyway flaw. His shadow was creeping up Merlin, ready to smother him.

"Will you come quietly?" Arthur asked.

"No," Merlin said, so softly Arthur almost didn't hear it. Unimpressed, Arthur asked,

"Will you come loudly?"

Merlin gave him a brief look of disgust, that was new, they didn't always look disgusted, before saying in a biting voice,

"I will not come at all."

Arthur let there be a moment of silence before,

"Yes, you will."

For all of his brave words Merlin didn't run for it or prepare to fight. He just stood there, hyperventilating, looking at Arthur like a cornered wolf. No…a cornered cat…that had just been declawed _knew it_.

"Don't make me use this," Arthur waved the tranq-gun, Merlin flinched. Arthur was close now, twenty-meters and falling close.

"Don't do this," Merlin said. Arthur didn't smile, though he smirked in his mind.

"Don't do this," Merlin said again when Arthur kept advancing.

"You broke the law, friend," Arthur said, still slowly advancing.

"I was _born,_ _friend."_

Oh, it barks, Arthur thought. But does it bite?

"This isn't right," Merlin scrabbled back against the brick wall, eyes flying this way and that and back to Arthur, "you have no right to arrest me."

"Magic is evil, magic is against the law."

Merlin's hands were on the wall behind him, still trying to press himself through.

"'Innocent until proven guilty,' isn't that how the law is supposed to work?" Merlin said distractedly, still trying to slip backwards through the solid wall. Now that he was closer Arthur could see he'd been running a long, long time. His whole life. His haunted eyes, his scraggly hair, that way he had of holding himself.

Well now he could stop running.

"'All magic users must submit themselves to the Institute, all those that don't shall be fugitives of the law,'" Arthur paused, ten meters.

"I'm sorry; I should've _spelled it out for you._ I meant a just law...you know, based on _justice."_

For all his attitude Merlin's eyes were still fixed on the tranq-gun and he stood without moving, hardly breathing, as if it wouldn't see him if he didn't move.

"You'll have time to spell out every thought you've ever had," Arthur said, raising the tranq-gun to his shoulder, "once we get to the Institute."

A spasm of terror and anguish crossed Merlin's face; he seemed to be fighting himself. Arthur lowered his head to look through the site, aiming at Merlin's chest.

"Don't worry, we'll be there before you know-"

"Don't shoot!" Merlin burst out, flinching to the side as he could retreat no further back.

Arthur lowered the gun slightly.

"Don't shoot just don't shoot, please don't shoot," Merlin was cowering now, not looking, as though closed eyelids could protect him.

Arthur felt a moment of disappointed disgust.

So, this one was a beggar.

"I'll come with you, I'll come quietly, just don't _shoot me_."

Arthur lowered the gun completely, sighing irritably. He hated seeing a human doing this, bending themselves into a coward, it made him feel unclean.

"Fine," he snapped, reaching for the iron cuffs clipped to his belt, "no funny business though, arms up."

"Just don't hurt me," Merlin said, still crushing himself between the ground and the wall.

"Get up," Arthur snapped, striding forwards, "get up."

"Don't shoot, don't shoot," Merlin babbled.

"Arms up," Arthur ordered, his focus on opening the iron cuffs one handed.

Merlin was still begging 'don't shoot,' even as he uncoiled fast as a whip and brought the metal bar ripping across Arthur's gun hand.

Arthur swore and leapt back but he'd dropped his gun.

The bar wasn't iron, which must've been why Merlin had chosen it as his weapon, loosening it from the wall behind his back as Arthur approached. It had a jagged edge and had cut open the back of Arthur's hand.

He must've been begging Arthur not to shoot to get him within striking distance.

Not a coward…cunning.

All of this ran through Arthur's head in the fraction of an instant.

Merlin was whipping it back now, aiming for Arthur's _face_, but now his body was reacting. He threw himself at Merlin, so close the blow couldn't get him, and with the hand still holding the iron cuffs Arthur reached up and slammed Merlin's head into the bricks. Dropping the bar Merlin put a hand to Arthur's head and tried to drive his magic into his attacker, but he was surrounded by iron and all Arthur felt was the echo of a headache, fleeting and harmless. With both hands he grabbed handfuls of Merlin's shirt, pulled him forwards them slammed him back, whiplashing the sorcerers' head against the bricks. Merlin's eyes jarred out and he tried to kick Arthur but by then Arthur had stepped back and swung at him with the hand still holding the iron cuffs. The blow sent Merlin sprawling to the left, spitting blood.

Before Merlin could do anything else Arthur had put his knee in his back and wrenched his left arm behind him and up, further then it could bend. Merlin gave a half-gasp, half-yell, and froze, trembling with fear and pain.

"Well, that was _hilarious,_" Arthur snarled.

"You have no right," Merlin snapped back, "let me go."

"Yeah, right," Arthur stood up and jerked him up, paralysing Merlin's resistance with his twisted arm.

"Don't take me to the Institute, please, just…put the iron cuffs on me, throw me in jail, I don't care, just don't take me to that place," Merlin's voice wasn't begging, it was wild and desperate.

Arthur twisted Merlin's arm at an increasingly unnatural angle and he cried out, making Arthur feel a pang of contempt.

What sort of person cried out at physical pain? Merlin's earlier bravado had certainly melted away to nothing. Where was it now he needed it?

"Just leave me alone!" Merlin shouted, trying to pull free.

Arthur adjusted his grip on Merlin's arm bones just in case he needed to stick his thumb into the nerve.

"Don't worry; I'll leave you alone, as soon as I take you to my father."

Arthur felt the shiver that went through Merlin and for a moment he went compliant in Arthur's grip, walking forwards without struggle.

"You're…" He started in a stricken voice.

"Arthur Pendragon," Arthur nodded even though Merlin couldn't see him.

"You're taking me to…"

"My father."

Uther Pendragon, lead scientist of the Institute.

_No_.

This boy must be powerful. Not powerful enough to defy the iron and turn his magic into a weapon, but Arthur could've sworn he heard a quiet '_No_' in his head that he somehow knew had not been spoken.

"Let me go," Merlin snarled over his shoulder with sudden ferocity. He _writhed _in Arthur's grip, fighting hard. Gritting his teeth Arthur pressed the nerve and twisted the arm but this time Merlin didn't cry out. He tried to whirl away but Arthur was too strong, Arthur had the advantage of angle and all of the power.

"Stop it," Arthur snapped as Merlin tried to jerk himself free, "I'll break your arm, stop it."

Merlin dropped his feet out from beneath him but Arthur pulled him back up, he could feel the tendons in the boy's shoulder grinding free of the bone. Merlin yelled but kept fighting.

Arthur twisted the arm up further, he could feel the bone bending, the pain would stop him, this would do it...

Merlin wrenched forwards and Arthur felt Merlin's shoulder dislocate savagely beneath his hand. Upon feeling the grinding loose of bones Arthur's hands loosened instinctively, repulsed by the shudder of damage. It was enough for Merlin.

Merlin twisted out and tried to run…but the fight for freedom had cost him too much. The nerves in his arm seared like nothing he'd ever felt, blinding him, deafening him, nose filled with some metal smell, electricity in his mouth. Heart wrenching, because if he could _run _freedom was _right there, _Merlin fell to his knees with a yell, trembling all over, furious at Arthur, furious at himself, furious at his weakness.

Arthur remained standing, watching Merlin on the ground, knowing he wasn't going anywhere.

"Why did you do that, you idiot?" Arthur asked whilst clipping the iron cuffs to his belt, there would be no need for them anymore.

"Don't take me," Merlin growled so deeply it was almost inaudible. His whole face was a wince; his skull must be _aching_ from being beaten against the wall.

"That was completely unnecessary," Arthur gestured at Merlin's shoulder as he walked around to face him.

"It was…" Merlin closed his eyes against the pain, "…completely necessary."

"I'm still going to take you," Arthur said.

Merlin looked up from beneath his eyebrows and sweaty black hair. His eyes…there was pain there, not just physical; there was pain in his soul.

And fear, fear like you wouldn't believe…he'd dislocated his shoulder to avoid whatever he thought was waiting for him.

What did he think was waiting for him?

What was waiting for him?

"Why would you do this to yourself?" Arthur asked irritably, squatting before him. He was probably going to have to carry Merlin to his van now and the boy was all bone.

"I didn't," Merlin said with bared teeth, "you did."

"If you hadn't resisted…" Arthur trailed off, sensing no argument he made would get through to the boy.

Merlin had really done a number on this dislocation, Arthur would be curious to read the medical evaluation. He wondered if there was nerve damage and, if there was, to what extent.

He'd thought Merlin was a coward with a weakness for pain.

He'd thought wrong.

"Well, come on," Arthur said, disliking the sense of being wrong footed. Merlin was coming in, dislocated shoulder or not.

He moved forward to help Merlin up, he wasn't inhuman, he didn't want to cause irrevocable damage or unnecessary pain but Merlin had reared away and scrambled away from him one handed, blood draining from his face with the pain of it.

"Stop it, you'll hurt yourself worse," Arthur said.

"I'll take it over the Institute," Merlin hissed, trapped with his back against a wall again.

"Without medical treatment you could get permanent damage to your arm. I mean, tendons, soft tissue…the blood vessels could be getting cut off, there could be irreversible nerve damage," Arthur reasoned, gesturing at Merlin's whole body and all that could go wrong.

"The sort of medical treatment the Institute offers isn't going to be conducive to my general health," Merlin said grimly, still panting from his flight and their fight.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked; nobody knew what the Institute did, not even him, not really. His father had told him what they did but he'd never seen it, he'd never even been inside.

"I've been there before," Merlin snarled, clutching his dislocated left arm carefully with his right, knees up and feet still scrabbling for purchase.

"No you haven't," Arthur said without thinking.

Through the sweat and grime and blood, Merlin had scraped his forehead at some stage during the fight, came the first hint of a smirk…a pained, despairing smirk, because it was all he had left.

"Oh, haven't I? My mistake."

For a moment the only sound was Merlin's heavy panting.

"Nobody gets out," Arthur said.

"I'm not nobody. I'm Merlin Emrys, but you can call me…

Painfully, wincing all the way, Merlin showed Arthur the inside of his left wrist.

_**1274**_.

"…1274."

There was a sort of death in Merlin's eyes as he said it.

"You were a patient of my father's," Arthur said with sudden comprehension.

Merlin looked at him with disgust and disbelief. What, did Arthur think they were suddenly mates because Merlin was a victim of his father?

"Patient would be the wrong word. Captive would be better…the best word, however, would be _experiment_."

"My father doesn't experiment on people," Arthur said blankly, as though surprised Merlin would suggest such a thing.

Merlin tried to laugh bitterly but the pain was too much and he had to hunch over himself to regain his voice.

"No," he said to the ground, "he doesn't experiment on _people, _he experiments on _sorcerers._ It's not _inhumane _because we aren't _human._"

"My father is not a cruel man," Arthur said sternly.

"You're," Merlin snapped up, beginning his sentence too vigorously and needing to stop and breathe before starting again.

"You're just one of his agents and look at the things you would do."

"What things?" Arthur tried to have an indignant tone but it was undermined by a sudden fear of these…things.

Merlin looked over himself, the blood on his shirt from his head wound and his disfigured arm. Then he looked across at Arthur's van, the lights still shining in their eyes, looking at all it symbolized. Then finally he looked at Arthur himself, with his bruised knuckles and the iron-gun on one side, the handgun on the other. Saying Merlin's look of revulsion made Arthur feel uncomfortable would be a vast understatement.

"I wouldn't need any of these things if you came quietly," he said in his defense.

"Do you even know why you are catching sorcerers?" Merlin said in an almost yell, tears he wouldn't let fall smarting in his eyes, "Do you even know what you taking us to? The Institute is evil and cruel, it experiments of us and kills us. Of course I won't come quietly! Of course I will fight!" Merlin leant forwards and with a hiss and a gasp he spat out, "_I would rather die than go back._"

Arthur rocked back onto his heels in shock.

He'd used the phrase 'I'd rather die' before, but it had always been in jest. 'I'd rather die than do the written exam again,' 'I'd rather die than watch that movie again.'

But this boy wasn't jesting. He was, in all senses of the term, deadly serious.

Arthur couldn't imagine that. He couldn't imagine preferring death to anything. He was such a physical person, always striving towards peak physical condition, every goal based on a physical challenge, that he couldn't understand someone, even an unfit and injured someone, wanting to throw it all away.

Death was worse than _anything_.

Yes, his jobs had its risks, but it was a challenge. It was what he drove himself to train so hard for, to test himself against impossible adversary and terrible odds.

Merlin was watching the shock on Arthur's face with an unreadable look on his own. After a long, swollen moment where Merlin's declaration ran through Arthur's mind like fire, Merlin leant forwards.

He flicked his eyes at the number branded onto his skin and, looking back at Arthur, said,

"I have a matching set."

He painfully twisted both of his wrists up for Arthur to see and Arthur looked down.

_**1274 **_was on the inside of his left wrist.

His right was covered in scars.

The night was warm but Arthur felt like he'd been doused with icy water.

"What happened?" He asked, unable to take his eyes off Merlin's right arm.

They weren't clean and straight like a razors' cut but twisted and pulled together like a ragged wound healing, held together by stitches.

They were brutal and ugly.

They were real.

They were so very, very real.

Merlin's face was set with the expression that only a survivor of great evil could recognise. To Arthur it was unknowable.

"When I was first caught by the Institute," Merlin began, grimacing as he leant back onto the bricks, "they did the usual tests on me, checking my magic type and levels and such and such. Then I became part of the experiments, Uther's experiments on trying to control magic. There were drugs and machines and electrical monitors, all trying not to suppress magic but extract it or, failing that, take control of it in my own body."

Merlin's voice was growing distant, like he was travelling away from Arthur before his very eyes.

It was like he was receding into himself, his voice falling plain and lifeless from his tongue.

"Uther realised there might not be a way to control a persons' magic, so he went about trying to control the person. I was selected as a test subject for this experiment. I was…"

Merlin stopped. He didn't pause for breath or to search for words he just…stopped. It was very unnerving. After a moment Arthur said, 'You were…?' and he continued as if he hadn't paused.

"…tortured until I cast the magic Uther wanted. He wanted me to kill a man, a fellow prisoner. It took him 7 hours, 13 minutes, 5 seconds to get what he wanted. He used iron and electricity and…" for a moment Merlin's voice became terribly human, "awful, awful things. I broke and cast the spell, but it was messy, I was in too much pain to really control my magic, I just threw it out. Uther knew he needed to find another way."

Arthur felt like there was a fist around his heart, he couldn't _breathe._ He wanted to force Merlin to stop talking, he wanted to listen to every word. He wanted to run away, he wanted to run and run and never stop running.

"One of my friends was caught trying to rescue me. Will. Uther said if I didn't do what he wanted he would torture and kill Will. I killed another man. Uther was pleased.

He let me out of the Institute, under orders to kill Morgana, who was one of the most prominent politicians advocating sorcerers' rights at the time. I didn't want to do it, but I didn't want Will to be hurt either. I had another option. I confronted the Institute officer tailing me and ripped open my wrist on the jagged corner of a dumpster.

I thought that if I died there would be no reason to punish Will, Uther had never said if I killed myself Will would be hurt and, though I didn't trust him, I knew that once I was dead Uther would know hurting Will would be pointless when he could keep him for other things. I hoped Will would be saved before those other things happened. The man tailing me tackled me to stop me from doing the other arm but he didn't have any first aid equipment and couldn't stop me from dying. He called the Institute, a van turned up, I was still alive but I was going quick.

Then a gang of druids came, they had sensed my dying magic. They drove off the Institute, who didn't fight too hard for me as they thought I was going to die anyway. The druids took me away, the druids healed me, but not everybody was careful enough. Uther learnt that I was still alive; he killed Will before I could save him. He's been hunting me ever since."

Merlin's story jerked to a stop and his eyes focused on Arthur again.

Arthur's left hand was over his mouth, he had forgotten the cut Merlin had opened on it and didn't notice when the blood dripped down his chin. Nor did he notice the pain in his knees from where he had moved forward to kneel on the hard cement during Merlin's story. He felt like he was about to be sick. He swallowed.

After a moment he said, very quietly,

"You're not lying, aren't you?"

Merlin looked very sad for Arthur, but he shook his head.

"I…I didn't know," Arthur said, still very quiet.

"What did you think they were doing to us, Arthur?" Merlin sounded tired; it was the first time he'd used Arthur's name.

"I don't know. My father said he was putting those iron bracelet things on sorcerers and tracking devises, so they were registered, then letting them go. He said they were fine as long as they didn't have any magic. It sounded…you know…it didn't sound bad. I never saw it but that was because I was never really around… I thought it sounded reasonable as it stopped sorcerers from posing a threat to society."

Merlin was shook his head and the truth settled over Arthur's mind like a pervasive frost.

Because he had heard whispers, hadn't he?

He'd heard rumours in the night of screams heard on visits to the institute, of records kept by his father on experiments and successful experiments and failed experiments and plans for the future.

Maybe he had always known, maybe not. Either way, he certainly knew now.

"Now what?" He said hopelessly to Merlin. His father…he didn't know what to think or feel.

One of Merlin's eyebrows twitched, as if he wanted to assume a scornful expression but had thought better of it.

"Now you have two choices," Merlin said, "you can either let me go or give me your gun."

Arthur put a hand onto the handgun on his right side, horrified.

It was hard and heavy beneath his hand.

It was real.

This was real.

He felt abruptly dizzy. If he slid it out and handed it to this boy…no…Merlin, if he handed it to Merlin, Merlin was completely prepared to die, there and then. Arthur could see the resolve in his eyes.

His hand trembled.

But, what was his other option? To let Merlin go, defy everything his father stood for, everything he had ever stood for?

But he hadn't stood for it, hadn't he? He had just used it as an excuse. He didn't care about his jobs' principles, Arthur was obsessed with the physical, with the training and the challenge and the success at the end of the chase. He was happy for his father to give him the directions as long as Arthur had the freedom to go as fast and hard as he could.

But where had that led him?

He knew where it had led him. It had led him to sitting in an alleyway at some early hour of the morning under the harsh headlights of his car with a stranger sitting in front of him asking for his gun.

Merlin wasn't even suicidal. He didn't want to die; he wasn't trying to go down like a hero.

It was just that if his choices were between dying here or getting taken back to the Institute, where he would either kill people himself or cause their deaths by his disobedience, removing himself from the equation was the only solution. It was sad and terrible, but he'd come to terms with the idea a long time ago, which Arthur supposed was also sad and terrible.

Arthur straightened up where he knelt and took his hand off his gun, Merlin's head jerked up as if by reflex as he did so.

"I'm letting you go," Arthur said hoarsely, in a mildly disbelieving tone. Merlin felt something expand painfully in his chest like a heart attack, like hope.

"You're…"

"…letting you go, yes," Arthur stood up as if in a dream, looking down the alleyway to where he'd dropped his tranq-gun without any indication that he wanted to retrieve it.

"Brilliant," Merlin said, leaning forwards off the wall and losing the end of the word in the pain. If he went slowly, very slowly, he might be able to get up…if he was really ambitious he might even try to walk.

Biting his lip to stop himself from crying out he leant onto his right hand and gathered his knees beneath himself with the speed of a geriatric.

Arthur looked down at the movement and watched him slowly preparing to stand. Feeling him watching Merlin looked up, summoning a grimace of a smile for Arthur.

"Okay…up I get," he muttered, looking down again. Clawing with his right hand up the wall he stood, his left arm half held, half swinging at his side. He made a sound like '_hhmmrnnguh,_' awkwardly leant his right shoulder against the wall and tried not to pass out.

Sweaty and panting, after a dizzying moment he looked across at Arthur,

"Piece of cake," he gasped.

Arthur raised his eyebrow sceptically as a pang of guilt made itself known in his stomach.

"Wait here," Arthur said and turned, striding off to his van.

"But I was going to run a marathon," Merlin's thin voice called after him sarcastically.

Even though Arthur had just said he was letting Merlin go Merlin couldn't help but watch him suspiciously as he reached into his van. Pushing himself off the wall Merlin tried to walk, or at least see if he could walk. Turned out he couldn't do either.

Arthur came back a few minutes later to where he remained, leaning against the alleyway wall, eyes following Arthur's movements with the guarded look of a helpless person. Seeing the resentful dependence and forced trust in Merlin's eyes made Arthur feel worse, though he also felt he deserved it.

"Painkillers," he said, waving a small cardboard packet at Merlin as though presenting it for evidence.

"You should take…hm…probably two now," Arthur continued, pulling out the metal sheet of pills, "and keep the rest for later. Instructions are on the back…that is…assuming you can read?"

"I can read!" Merlin snapped, glaring at Arthur and the painkillers in turn, "how do I know those are painkillers and not sedatives?"

He couldn't help but ask, after all this could all be a ploy for an easier arrest. In response Arthur popped one out of the packet and placed it in his mouth, swallowing it dry. Merlin swallowed convulsively at the idea of taking a pill without water, he'd always needed a decent drink to wash medicine down with.

Arthur tried to hand him the painkillers but Merlin was still watching him suspiciously.

"Take another two," he said.

"What? Why?" Arthur asked, startled.

"Well you could still take them if they are sedatives," Merlin pointed out and adjusted his grip on his left arm, wincing, "if I took two and you took one you'd still wake up before me. However you'd still wake up before me if you took the same amount because…well…look at you…and look at me…"

Arthur did so, the difference was extremely obvious. Arthur was thickset and muscled like a thoroughbred, he took a moment to be very proud of himself, and Merlin was thin and gangly like a greyhound…an underweight greyhound.

"I see your point," Arthur said. He didn't think he looked smug but when Merlin snapped, 'Don't look so smug' he supposed he had failed.

"I'm to be sooo out of it," Arthur moaned to himself, popping out two more painkillers. He looked up quickly.

"In a conscious sort of way. Look at the back, side effects include drowsiness, not sedation."

He threw the packet at Merlin, who completely failed at catching it.

"Broken arm!" Merlin snapped at Arthur's unimpressed expression.

"Dislocated," Arthur corrected, moving towards Merlin and picking up the fallen packaging to hand it to him.

"Whatever," Merlin said, breathing in sharply through his nose in pain as he tried to lean away from Arthur, who was too close for comfort.

"Sorry, I'm…don't," Arthur jerked backwards, seeing Merlin clutch his left arm and try to step backwards, "don't move, I'm not going to hurt you."

He stretched his arm out as far from his body as he could so Merlin could take the drug packet. After a moment Merlin took it and read the back.

"Okay," he said slowly. Arthur took back the packet and popped out two pills for Merlin, which he handed to him.

"I need water," Merlin said. Arthur went back to his truck and fetched a bottle, taking a hearty swig as he came back to indicate it was safe. Placing the pills in his mouth Merlin took the water bottle and with a last look at Arthur took a deep drink, swallowing the painkillers. When Merlin tried to hand the water bottle back to Arthur he didn't take it.

"You keep it," he said, remembering the length of the chase and how he hadn't given Merlin a moment's rest to eat or drink, "you need it more than I do."

"Thanks," Merlin said with an odd mixture of resentfulness and genuine gratitude, finishing off the water.

"They shouldn't take too long to kick in," Arthur said as he handed Merlin the rest of the pills. Merlin took them and slid them into a pocket of his jeans.

"Thanks," Merlin said again but winced as he jostled his arm. He took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply, his shoulder obviously still in agony.

"You'll need someone to put it back into place," Arthur said.

"I know," Merlin said, not opening his eyes, head leaning against the bricks, looking like he could die of exhaustion there and then.

"If you wanted…I could do it," Arthur suggested hesitantly.

Merlin's eyes flicked open.

"Well it's my fault it's out in the first place," Arthur said with what was supposed to be a self-deprecating, apologetic gesture, "and I do have some medical training, good medical training, from the Institute."

Merlin watched him for a long moment then sighed.

"No thanks, I'll be able to do it myself once I get away from all of this iron."

"Are you sure?" Arthur said. Merlin smiled faintly.

"Yeah, I appreciate the painkillers and the water and the…you know…freedom, but I'll do it myself. Thanks."

"Okay," Arthur said, resisting from insisting.

He knew he could help Merlin but Merlin was basing his decisions of unstable trust alone. It would've taken more faith then Merlin had in him to allow Arthur to manipulate his shoulder back into place, especially as that process could be particularly painful.

"Though…you could…" Merlin started.

"Yes?" Arthur said, perking up at this chance to try and help, try to make amends for what he had just done and what he had done his entire life.

"If you could take down one of the iron gates or something I could get out and fix myself up with magic sooner."

Arthur was still nervous at the idea of magic but he knew it wasn't what he thought it was. His willingness to make things right was strong then his nervousness anyway.

"Yeah, okay. Are you good to move or do you…?" His question 'Do you want to come in my van?' died in his throat. If Merlin wouldn't let him touch his shoulder he certainly wouldn't want to get into his van.

"I'm good," Merlin said, not seeming to have noticed the unfinished question.

He pushed himself off the wall hesitantly. Groaning he gingerly steadied his arm with his right hand but didn't fall back on the wall.

"Wow, those things work fast," Arthur said in a mildly impressed tone.

"Yeah, must dissolve quick in an empty stomach," Merlin said in a pained voice. He stepped forward, wincing, and Arthur fell into slow step beside him, ready if Merlin needed something to steady himself against.

They passed Arthur's van and Arthur had a weird moment that if he knew what an existential moment was he would've called it that. He'd been in that van hours, _minutes_, ago, with no idea how things would change. How ignorant he'd been, how ignorant he still was. What else was he going to learn over the next day, week, month, year? Would it be amazing, terrible, painful, true?

"So," Arthur interrupted his thoughts as they walked out of the alleyway, "what are you going to do now?"

"The real question," Merlin replied, "is what are _you _going to do now?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur said.

"Are you going to stay at the Institute?" Merlin pressed.

"I dunno, no? I mean, I can't, not after letting you go."

"Change from the inside can be just as important as change from the outside," Merlin said, looking down the road one way, then the other, and then setting off towards the closest iron railings.

"You reckon I could change the Institute from the inside?" Arthur asked, forcing himself not to outpace Merlin, who was going so unbelievably slowly he must've taken lessons.

"Well there are already a lot of people trying to change it from the outside but you are in a unique position. It might take a few people pulling and a few people pushing in order to change it or, if necessary," Merlin looked Arthur straight in the eye, "end it."

"I won't hurt my father," Arthur said sharply and Merlin flinched back with sudden fear.

"That wasn't what I meant. It's not about hurting anyone; it's about stopping people from hurting others."

They got to the iron railing but Arthur hesitated. Should he really let Merlin go? What about his father?

Merlin sighed.

"I don't want to hurt your father," he said, having correctly guessed what Arthur was thinking, "I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to be free."

"Promise me," Arthur said, the words feeling compelled out of him by some instinct he didn't understand.

"What?"

"Promise me you won't hurt him."

Merlin looked at him quietly, fear and sadness in his eyes. He sighed again.

"I can't promise that. If it's a choice between saving a tyrant…" Arthur flinched at the word but Merlin continued, "…or saving his victims, I'll save his victims every time."

Arthur glared at him, torn.

"But," Merlin continued in a stronger voice, "I can promise that hurting him is, and always will be, my absolute last option. If I can avoid hurting him," the words '_killing him_' were not said but Arthur heard them nonetheless, "then I will."

Arthur looked down at the ground, furious, sad, _torn._

"That's the best I can do," Merlin said honestly.

As he examined the ground Arthur realised what Merlin's honesty must be costing him. He was risking Arthur changing his mind rather than lying to him. Arthur looked up but his eyes were caught halfway where saw all that his father had hidden in _**1274 **_and all that Merlin had suffered in the scars of his right wrist. He raised his head and looked Merlin in the eyes…

…and nodded.

He could see in the other man's eyes that Merlin understood him as much as he understood Merlin.

"Alright," Arthur turned away, embarrassed by the moment of honesty and faith between them. He began dismantling the iron barrier.

"Let's get you out of here."

It was jammed tight but as he had put it together he knew how to take it apart. It only took a few moments, Merlin standing straighter all the while as the painkillers and _freedom _kicked in.

"There you go," Arthur said with a final grunt, heaving aside the final iron bar.

"Awesome," Merlin grinned and stepped forwards. The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he stepped outside the iron barrier and a cold wind flew passed, greeting him.

He looked back at Arthur, still grinning.

"Are you going to fix your arm now?" Arthur asked, both because he wanted to make sure Merlin was okay and a very small part of him wanted to see some magic.

"Not yet, I've got to get away from this iron to do it properly, and I want to make sure I do it properly," Merlin looked ruefully down at his misshaped shoulder, "this isn't the sort of thing I want to stuff up."

"Nah, I guess not," Arthur said slightly wistfully, thinking about magic. Merlin looked up, hearing something more in Arthur's tone.

"We'll meet again, Arthur Pendragon."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing," Arthur ribbed with a pretend annoyed expression on his face.

"But…my charming character!" Merlin said in mock indignation.

They shared a smile.

Arthur felt awkward and guilty and, for some odd reason, happy.

"Go one," he said with a laugh, waving out into the night, "off with you."

"Arthur," Merlin said and reached out with his right hand.

Arthur raised his left to shake but Merlin gripped him with the intensity of a brother.

"Thank you, what you did was…it was really courageous."

Arthur made a self-conscious sound in his throat and didn't meet Merlin's eyes.

"No, Arthur," Merlin said firmly, chasing away Arthur's belittlement of what he'd done, "_thank you._"

"It was the right thing to do," Arthur said uncomfortably.

"That doesn't mean it was easy," Merlin said and Arthur finally met his piercing gaze.

"In fact," Merlin continued, "something being right almost always makes it harder to do. You did a _good thing_, even though it was hard. That _matters,_ Arthur."

Arthur sucked in a breath and nodded. Merlin smiled.

"We _will _see each other again."

"You can bet on it," Arthur grinned and released Merlin's hand.

Merlin stepped away from Arthur and studied him for a moment before turning to face the wind. He breathed in deeply, head still bleeding, shoulder still broken, but _free._

The wind whispered the word.

"I wonder what the worlds' got for me next," he said and Arthur couldn't tell if Merlin was talking to himself or to him. His head snapped around, his eyes were twinkling.

"See ya, Arthur."

And with that he walked off briskly, disappearing into the night.

Arthur watched him go with something tight in his chest, but it wasn't the tightness of endings.

It was the feeling of new beginnings.


End file.
